Unexpected Contact
by Persephone Kore
Summary: Complete.7th in Time's Riddle. Cowritten with Alan Sauer. Tom's Christmas gift to the Ministry has surprise results, Ginny learns not to procrastinate, Snape swallows a bitter pill, and Tom faces perhaps the most daunting challenge of his Hogwarts career.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction based on the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. No undue claim nor material profit is intended._

Authors' note: We're back! The Time's Riddle AU series is still going and, as posted to date, is reasonably compatible with background revealed in OotP. (There may be a few tweaks, but none that actually change the plot.) We do not expect any OotP spoilers in this story, but since Snape talks a lot in chapter three we will not guarantee his behavior at that time. 

****

Unexpected Contact  
by Alan Sauer  
and Persephone  
Chapter 1

It was early February and breakfast, as usual, was accompanied by a flurry of owls. Harry for once was seated where he could spot the Weasleys' aging owl Errol on his way through the window, which allowed him to use his Seeker skills (minus the broomstick aspect) to intercept the exhausted bird before he could land in the orange juice. Harry set Errol carefully on the table, poured him a small glass of juice just in case he liked it, and flipped the envelope over. "Ginny? Letter for you."

Ginny reached over to give Errol an absent pat as Harry passed her the letter. He had just gone back to his own food and was chewing a mouthful of bacon when Ginny's own glass hit the table with a thump and nearly spilled. He looked up in surprise; her eyes were moving rapidly and the hand that had been holding her juice was curled into a fist.

"Ginny?" Ron sounded anxious. "What's the matter? You've gone all pale...." He reached for the letter.

Ginny slowly relinquished the letter "The gist of it," she said in an odd, thin tone, "is along the lines of, 'Ginny, why does the morning paper say You-Know-Who is going to be hiding out at our house over the summer?'"

Ron stared at her. Hermione looked up from her breakfast and did the same. 

Harry blinked and ventured, "I suppose it's somebody being stupid about Tom, but _is_ he staying with you?" It seemed as if someone might have mentioned the plan to him, in that case. 

"There was one day in the library," Ginny said in a low voice, "before the holidays, when he mentioned not knowing yet what he'd do over the summer. I said I'd ask Mum and Dad." She bit her lip and added guiltily, "I haven't asked yet -- I wasn't sure what to write -- but I do mean to. I don't see how the paper would have known about that, though."

"They have been rather interested in Tom," Hermione remarked, paying the owl for her copy of the Daily Prophet and frowning into it. "Still, I don't see what they'd be doing in the Hogwarts library."

It was probably a measure of the worry and indignation over the article that Ron was trying to read over her shoulder and passed up the opportunity to comment on Hermione not seeing what somebody would be doing in the library. 

Harry shook his head and turned to look over at the Slytherin table. "No idea." Tom could always stay with him and Sirius now, of course. If he wanted to. But Harry had been rather hoping to visit the Burrow at least a time or two himself, and at any rate it would be much better if Mr. and Mrs. Weasley liked Tom. He hoped the phrasing had just been taken from the article. 

*****

"Pity about your summer plans, Riddle." Draco Malfoy was feeding one of his family's eagle owls and smiling over both the paper and what appeared to be a letter from home. "My father tells me there are people questioning Weasley's... sympathies now. Imagine, hosting the Dark Lord in his own home."

"Sounds very unhygienic to me," Tom said as evenly as he could. "Voldemort's dead." 

"They call it the Burrow and everyone knows about their pet _rat_ now. Hygiene can't matter too much to them." A sneer. "I'm sure Father would have invited you to stay with _us_, but I don't know about that after you've expressed a preference for their little hole. As if associating yourself with Potter hadn't been bad enough...."

"And here I heard _you_ tried to once or twice," Tom said pleasantly. He wanted to say something in defence of the Weasleys, but the trouble was, he didn't actually _know_ if he was staying there or not, and he didn't want to say anything he couldn't back up. 

Besides, pale cheeks had gone almost fever-red just at that. "Heroes don't always stay heroes, Riddle," Malfoy spat. 

"And prats don't always stay prats, so there's still hope for you, but at the moment, he and Ginny both have better manners."

Malfoy flushed angrily. "I'm sure you'd know all about her manners, all that time alone. Some would have credited you with better taste, but as they say beggars can't be choosers."

"Oh," Peony piped up softly and in utterly innocent tones, "they've been inviting me along." 

A victim of his own innuendo, Malfoy choked on his toast. 

Tom reminded himself to look into expanding the study group again -- since their first attempt had been foiled by Sirius Black's arrival, they hadn't really made the effort -- and shot Peony a grateful smile while their housemate was still spluttering. "Nice one," he whispered. "I think we need to talk, though. Sooner would be better. The break at mid-morning...?"

"I'll catch you -- can you make it quick though? Too much noise to concentrate in the dorm last night, I have an assignment to finish."

"Yeah, it shouldn't take long. Could use your perspective on..." Tom grimaced. "Damage control."

Peony shrugged helplessly. "I didn't talk to anyone," she added almost inaudibly. 

"No, I know you didn't. I just think... this might be bad, it's just the wrong kind of public attention, and we should stick together."

"Nobody mentioned me," she pointed out. 

"I... I know. I guess, if you don't want to be any more involved, it's your choice. Sorry for assuming."

"It's okay. I'll be there." Peony grinned, suddenly impish again. "Just wanted to point that out." Then she shook her head. "Honestly, the _Weasleys_, Death Eaters? Anybody who takes that seriously will be laughed out of the country for an idiot."

"I hope you're right." He wasn't as sure, but Peony might know better. Even so, he wished he thought the idea of conflating him and Voldemort were as likely to be seen as laughable.

"Wait and see." She eyed Malfoy, who seemed to be able to breathe but was still coughing too frequently to speak, warily. "I'd better go though. I want to get some work done." 

"All right. See you later."

Peony made her escape. Tom waited until Malfoy's wheezing began to sound as if he might be about to speak, then remarked blandly, "I'm still a little disturbed that Potions and Care of Magical Creatures bring romance to mind for you, but I suppose the state of your love life really isn't any of my business." 

He looked up and toward the Gryffindor table sharply as a long hiss from Harry crawled beneath the other students' voices. "Can you come over here?" 

Tom tossed one last mocking grin in Malfoy's direction and made his way over to the Gryffindor table before the older boy regained his composure. "You lot saw the Prophet too?" he murmured as he came within close earshot of the little knot of Harry, Hermione, and the younger Weasleys.

"Hermione's reading hers now." Harry gestured. Hermione waved without actually looking up from the page. "Ginny, ah, got a letter from home."

Tom winced and shot Ginny a concerned look. "Is everything all right? Your dad isn't going to lose his job or anything, is he?"

Ginny, who had been folding, unfolding, refolding, and possibly mutilating the letter in question, flattened it out agitatedly and looked mortified. "Not that I know of -- they saw the article, though, and they asked.... Well, I hadn't written to ask them about having you stay yet, so they were puzzled. I really meant to before now; I'm sorry -- I'll have to right away now of course...."

"Oh." He shrugged. "If it's going to be a problem, you don't have to, I could stay with Harry -- I mean, if it'd keep you out of trouble with your mum and dad."

She looked, if anything, more distressed at this. "Well, at the very least I have to _explain_. And I did mean to ask; I shouldn't have waited this long in the first place."

"It's okay," he said hastily. "I don't want to be any trouble."

"_You_ aren't; it's my fault. I ought to have taken care of this already! It _shouldn't_ be a problem, anyway -- if they thought anything was wrong they would have had me home for the Christmas holiday."

"What I want to know is how this--" Tom checked the paper in his hand. "How this Rita Skeeter person found _out_ about it. And why she's bringing it up now. I mean, it's been weeks and weeks."

"_Her_!" Ginny gasped, suddenly all indignation. "They didn't say that -- I suppose I should have known it would be her; she's never written a good word about Dad, or not one _she_ meant that way." She paused and frowned. "I don't see how she could have known either, though."

"Peony --?" Ron began. 

"She wouldn't," Tom said quellingly. "And she said anybody who suggested Weasleys as Death Eaters would be laughed out of the country." 

"Maybe Skeeter hid under the library carpet. I always knew she was low," Ginny muttered.

"Not a reliable news source, then?"

"She's very good at making people she dislikes look bad." 

"If she doesn't care for your father's politics," Hermione said from behind her paper, "which certainly does look to be the case, I suppose that would explain why she decided to bring it up now in particular. It looks as if he's been very busy lately."

Tom grinned, flopping down in an empty chair. "Happy Christmas, Ministry of Magic, thoughtfully yours T.M. Riddle. I didn't think that was his department really, though."

"Oh, is _that_ what they're using?" Hermione looked at him over the top of the paper. "I wouldn't have thought so either."

"Well, Bill says he and Mum helped Dumbledore a lot during the war," Ron said, "and there's probably enchanted Muggle stuff in what they're going after. Dad's not, you know, really important, but he _is_ head of his department and people _do_ listen to him."

"I just wouldn't have thought banking records and Misuse of Muggle Artifacts were very directly connected," Hermione replied with dignity. "Unless possibly they were Muggle banking records, which they aren't."

"Part of what I didn't keep was artifact storage," Tom said. "I didn't ask what was in it."

"_Oh._ ...In that case, I do see." 

Ginny winced; Tom rather thought she saw all too well, considering that both the picture and the diary had probably qualified as Misuse. "Well, he probably appreciates all that," she said firmly, "so that should help."

"If he knows it was me that sent them." Tom frowned. "I just sort of had the books sent, I didn't take them over myself or anything."

"Who else would've been able to get the goblins to send them?" Ginny asked practically. "I suppose I could mention it, too." She tilted her head back to look at the ceiling, then jumped up. "I should just have time to write before class if I hurry."

"I'm meeting Peony midmorning to try and short-circuit the rumor mill. Hope you don't get in too much trouble, Ginny."

"I really am sorry." Ginny hurried out of the Great Hall with Errol under one arm. 

Harry watched her go, then turned to Tom and said solemnly, "I'm not sure you two were having the same conversation."

*****


	2. Chapter 2

__

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. No undue claim nor material profit is intended.

****

Unexpected Contact  
Time's Riddle series  
by Alan Sauer  
and Persephone  
Chapter 2

*****

Tom hurried down the corridor toward the usual Gryffindor route to the Potions dungeon, after a brief and somewhat heartening conference with Peony at the midmorning break. It seemed only Malfoy and his immediate circle were taking the rumors about the Weasleys at all seriously -- Marcus Flint had even remarked that while the twins were as big a couple of smartarses as anyone was likely to meet, they were no more Dark than they were centaurs. 

But he still wanted to catch Ginny before they actually got to class. Harry's remark about two different conversations had been weighing on his mind, and it had occurred to him that maybe Ginny thought he was trying to wiggle out of staying at the Burrow for the summer.

Tom found a spot next to one of the suits of armor and hunkered down to wait.

Most Gryffindors, while suitably punctual, did not hurry to Potions. Therefore when Ginny appeared walking quickly down the corridor, she was well ahead of any of her Housemates and thus caught alone in the ambush. 

"Hey," Tom said, trying not to appear completely out of nowhere. "Since when are you in this much of a hurry to see Snape?"

"Tom!" She slowed down. "I was hoping to catch you, actually. I sent the owl off -- I gave the letter to a school owl; Errol's resting --"

"Great! I actually wanted to talk to you about that--something Harry said--" He fell into step next to her. "Look, you know it's not that I don't _want_ to stay with your family this summer, don't you? And that I'm not mad you didn't owl your parents before now? I just don't want you getting in any more trouble because of me."

"I --" Ginny paused and shook her head. "Well... I wasn't quite sure which you'd rather do. But _I'm_ upset about not having sent the owl; I wouldn't blame you if you were." She pushed her hair back and sighed. "I won't blame them if _they_ are, either. I really did mean to do it sooner -- I couldn't quite figure out how to say it, but I should have just sat down and done it like this morning. Only... a few months ago."

"Well, it's a weird situation. But, I mean... as nice as it is to have a room at Sirius's house, this is the first summer Harry has with him. It'd be a lot more of an imposition staying there, really."

She smiled a bit and looked somewhat less flustered. "I doubt Harry would look at it that way, really, but... well, it isn't that I'd mind if you wanted to stay there instead, but I didn't want you to think I hadn't _meant_ it...."

"_That_ wasn't ever a question. Chalk it up to misunderstanding and interruption by acquitted felon?"

That got a laugh, rather to his satisfaction. "I still shouldn't have taken so long, especially since getting the Christmas plans settled would have been the perfect time, but all right. Thanks."

"What do you think your parents are likely to say?"

"That's... a good question right now. That's one thing -- it probably would have gone over better if it hadn't been sprung on them from somewhere else. It wouldn't be fair to hold that against _you_, though, so they'll probably just yell at me, and they didn't object about Christmas." She grinned. "And about having somebody stay at all, well, obviously there's precedent."

"With Harry, sure."

"I remember when I was really little Bill and Charlie had friends over for a few weeks sometimes too." Ginny coughed slightly and looked mischievous. "Of course, Mum did throw out one of Bill's girlfriends and made him sleep in the garden for a week one time...."

Tom snorted. "Good thing Harry's got a place of his own, then, huh?"

She turned pink under the freckles. "She likes Harry, and he doesn't try to tell her how to cook."

"Heh. From all I've heard, that'd be like...." They were nearing Snape's classroom now, and apparently Ginny wasn't the only Gryffindor in a hurry for Potions today. "Like trying to teach Colin how to develop photographs." Tom grinned. "Surprised you showed up at all today, Colin -- looking for an extra nap?"

Colin pulled a horrified face. "I wouldn't dare. Maybe you Slytherins can get away with not showing up or sleeping in Snape's class...." 

Tom snorted. "You know very well he usually holds us to higher standards than anybody unless you're lucky enough to hack him off. I just meant you already know today's exercise back to front."

"He starts _out_ hacked off at Gryffindors, but I was kidding you anyway," Colin replied cheerfully. "Mostly. And... well, yeah. I could make this one three times over during the class period if I used the shortcuts, but I think I'd better not."

Tom laughed. "Ah, but can you slow yourself down that easily? You wouldn't believe how many times I've done something and gotten blank looks from the rest of the class in Dark Arts. Professor Lupin is usually pretty pleased, but you lot really got cheated in that class last year."

Colin rolled his eyes. "_Lockhart_. I thought he was all right at first; then I found out all he did was tell stories, and without any practical details either." He shook his head. "I remember the usual instructions, though. Making it with the shortcuts will work for most things, but for really high-quality photos you want the slower version."

"Well, maybe we'll look over your shoulder then; I've never done this one before. 'Course, I am working with Ginny, and," he grinned as he aimed a sidelong glance her way, "there's precedent that Weasleys get up to some fairly advanced potions projects their second year."

Ginny buried her face in her hands. "You hush. Though I think the twins credit Snape and McGonagall both in the documentation for Canary Creams."

Colin blinked. "There's documentation?"

"They're planning to start a shop eventually."

Tom snickered again. "That's right, I'd forgotten about the twins. I'm sure Snape'd be overjoyed to see them giving proper credit, though."

"Somehow I can't quite see Snape approving...."

"You can't see me approving of what?"

"Just some rumors, Professor. Some of the fifth-year girls trying to brew love potion in the bathroom sinks, or something," Tom said frankly. It was true, even -- he'd heard two of the Slytherin girls in the common room giggling about Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Seeker.

"I certainly do not," Snape said emphatically. He eyed Ginny severely. "Love potions are strictly prohibited at Hogwarts." 

"That's just what Ginny said. I'd asked, since I couldn't believe the policy had changed since my first year."

"It has not. Although I have _heard_ rumors about Miss Weasley's mother." 

Tom raised an amused eyebrow at Ginny, who was failing to look shocked but at least did not look overtly like laughing, then turned back to Snape. "Well, I'm sure Mrs. Weasley made sure to warn Ginny, then. Today's lesson sounds fascinating, though -- I got a photo album as a gift earlier this year, and I've often wondered how it was done."

Colin was seen swallowing a comment, possibly, "You could have asked _me_!" -- but fortunately not by Snape, who thawed somewhat at Tom's expression of interest. "The development fluids are generally comparatively simple to make -- first-years _should_ be able to handle them, though it seems that most cannot. I will warn you, however, that errors are likely to result in pyrotechnics."

"We'll be particularly careful, then, sir. I know I've seen enough of the hospital wing this term."

"You certainly have." Snape eyed Ginny severely. She looked meek. "_Try_ to be moderately competent this time."

As they all filed into the classroom, Tom carefully gauged Snape's notorious earshot, and when the professor was busily assembling notes and demonstration materials at his desk, let out a breath. "That'll teach us to loiter in the doorway. I'm glad I ran into Gemma Pendleton and Valeria Smythe-Price coming back from the Quidditch pitch last night."

"Well, it shouldn't have been _too_ bad -- he probably knows about the Canary Creams," Ginny replied softly. "They've given some out at meals."

"Yes, but you didn't need him glaring at you all period because he's mad at the twins."

"Well, no. Nice thinking." She shot Snape a glance to make sure he wasn't glaring at the moment before she gave Tom a quick grin. "Should I ask who they're after?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "Oh, Cedric Diggory, of course. Who else? I doubt they've got a chance, though; I hear love potions are tricky -- you can't always tell when you've gotten them wrong, and they can have nasty side-effects."

Colin blinked. "They fancy the _Hufflepuff_ seeker?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with that?"

"Aside from the love potions? It's... surprising."

Ginny shrugged. "Well. He _is_ very good-looking."

Colin stared at her, scandalized. "I thought you liked Harry!"

Ginny's cheeks turned pink again. "Don't make me blush in front of Snape," she muttered.

Tom raised an eyebrow at Ginny and grinned wickedly. "That reminds me.... What does Ron think?"

"That if it went wrong he wouldn't know whom to kill. I _just said_...."

"All right, all right, I'll stop... unless you want me to see if I can grab Gemma and Valeria's notes, that is...."

Ginny gritted her teeth and tried with no success whatsoever to stop blushing. This made it difficult to pretend nonchalance. "No, thank you."

Tom snickered. "Well, you know where I am if you change your mind." He traded conspiratorial grins with Colin behind her back, then turned to regard the blackboard as the rest of the class arrived and Snape proceeded to begin the lecture.

Ginny's attentiveness was much improved over the first few weeks, despite the fact that once her blushes cooled she took on a thoughtful look that made Tom wonder if she was considering when there would be ingredients suitable for tossing at him or Colin. This wasn't a good day for it.

Snape went over the procedure, warned them sternly of the likelihood of pyrotechnics should they err, and then eyed Ginny and Tom for a long moment.

Tom made a point of having the materials and utensils laid out in an organized fashion, since Snape had apparently decided to breathe down their necks from across the room. He began to set the ingredients out in order of addition, then remembered that quicksilver and flobberworm skin occasionally self-combusted if stored too close together, and instead put them in two lines, on either side of the cauldron, well away from the flame.

Hopefully the professor would be appeased by this show of... well, he couldn't help but call it fussiness in his own head, but they'd been walking thin since the Laughter Potion incident.

Ginny mixed the base -- infusion of snapdragon blossoms in alcohol (probably responsible for much of the flammability) and silver salts -- and stole a cautious glance at Snape just as he was distracted by another group who were apparently on the verge of an explosion already. She breathed a bit more easily and glanced at Colin, who was working with a speed and enthusiasm that had his partner looking bemused and a bit alarmed.

Tom glanced over Colin's way, then muttered to Ginny, "Well, that's one person who won't be making fun of Colin for dragging his camera around everywhere."

She grinned a bit. "You should have heard him going on when he found out you could develop wizard photos from Muggle film if you used the right development potions."

"What'd he do, disappear into a spare potions lab and not come out until he had a gallon of the stuff?"

"He _did_ disappear. I'm just not entirely sure to where. I'm not sure whether he got help or just used the books, either -- though I can't imagine Snape helping him with it!"

"Well, he did just say _most_ first years don't seem to be able to handle them." He winced at a sudden flash and roar from the other side of the classroom, but managed to keep his hands steady as he stirred. "And some second-years."

Ginny shrugged, checked the instructions, and carefully added the quicksilver in small droplets. "I still can't imagine Snape helping a Gryffindor first-year with a potion for hobby purposes." 

"Probably not, no. He might've had to get permission to try, though, especially if he used one of the labs."

"He brews it in his dorm room now," Ginny replied, after checking to be sure Snape was on the other side of the room. "He has a nice little fire in a jar -- I think Hermione taught him."

"I thought your brother the Head Boy was a stickler about stuff like that."

"He is. So don't tell him."

Tom laughed. "Right, I'll make sure not to bring up the subject the next time we sit down to tea."

Ginny grinned and hushed him. A few minutes later, while they were still carefully stirring in shreds of flobberworm skin, Colin leaned back and Snape almost immediately swooped down on him.

"The great photographer slacking off already, Creevey? Do you find my class... boring?" This last was delivered in a tone that promised remedies for boredom.

"No, sir. We've just finished."

"We, indeed." A thin-lipped smile spread across Snape's face as he regarded Colin's partner. "Perhaps you would like to repeat the experiment, since you're so obviously expert at it. Perhaps you can supervise your partner, this time, rather than doing all the work yourself."

"We both worked on it, sir," Colin said politely but firmly, "but may we have more quicksilver, or should we make a smaller batch this time?" Most of the ingredients had been available in at least double portions, but they were expected to be more careful with quicksilver, as it was both hazardous and expensive.

"Third shelf from the top in the second cabinet by the wall," Snape said shortly and went to defuse another near-explosion.

"Thank you," Colin said to the professor's back, just in case he was still listening, and went to fetch more quicksilver.

He was on his way back when another pair tried to add their quicksilver and flobberworm skin at the same time and directly behind Ginny. Snape spun around just as flame billowed out of the cauldron.

Tom ducked out of the way instinctively, but Ginny, on the wrong side of the cauldron, wasn't so lucky -- and when Tom straightened back up, he saw at once that this time "flame-haired" wasn't just a metaphor. "_Fluvio_!" he shouted, and water shot out of his wand to drench her head.

Ginny had just had time to feel the heat and remind herself firmly not to run or move too swiftly. As she reached the step of thinking how to put it out, she was abruptly doused in cold water. _Oh. Yes. That should take care of it,_ she thought with a sort of shocked relief. _I think I won't throw anything at him for the love-potion comment after all._

"_Finite Incantatem_! Ginny, are you all right?" Tom winced as the stream of water disappeared and Ginny's head came back into clear view. "Oh -- damn, your hair... are you hurt?"

"Mostly startled. A bit singed. Thank you." She felt gingerly at her upper back. Her neck felt a bit tender, but not much worse than a sunburn....

"Sorry about the hosedown, I kind of panicked." Tom winced at a few choice phrases from Snape's diatribe at the luckless pair who'd ignited her. "You went up like a torch... are you sure you're all right?"

"You were very quick."

"All right then. I think I've ruined our potion, though." The cauldron was, indeed, brimming, but showed no sign of exploding, or indeed of doing anything else.

Ginny looked at it ruefully. "Well, it's very diluted, at least, but I think I prefer it to the burns." She grinned wryly at him. "Although I suspect you could reassure me that Madam Pomfrey could fix them right up."

"Madam Pomfrey could fix those right up," Tom said obediently, returning her grin. "I suppose you really are all right then."

"Yes. Thanks again." She sighed and poked cautiously at the potion with a spoon, wondering whether it would be safer to ask Colin or Snape what it was likely to do now it had been watered. Colin would be nicer, but Snape probably wouldn't approve of asking another student.... 

Snape had, in fact, finished dressing down the other two students, and now turned around to regard Ginny, Tom, and the large puddle spreading across the dungeon floor. "Fifty points to Slytherin for quick action, Mr. Riddle. Well done. Miss Weasley, your injuries do not appear to be serious, but you may be excused to visit the hospital wing if you feel it necessary... and I would advise a haircut as soon as possible. In either case, dump out your cauldron and start again." He turned to regard the rest of the class. "_This_ is precisely why I instructed you to be _careful_, children. Were it not for Mr. Riddle's reflexes, one of your fellow students could have been severely injured, all because of a moment's carelessness. Any more accidents of that kind will result in detention."

Ginny pulled out her own wand to mutter a drying charm at the floor so no one would slip on the puddle, then went to collect new ingredients -- since all their leftovers were soaked -- while Tom disposed of the mess. Colin poured the quicksilver and asked again if she was all right; she repeated that she was and gave the pair who had ignited her a quick reassuring smile behind Snape's back as she returned.

They were both Slytherins. Apparently her reaction confused them badly.

Tom chuckled as Ginny came back with the ingredients and he wiped the last of the wet flobberworm skin off his dragon-hide gloves. "Wouldn't be surprised if they think you're plotting some baroque revenge," he whispered. "I'll see what I can do after class."

"I was _trying_ to be nice," she protested. "...Even if I'm half surprised he bothered to scold them."

"That's just it, I doubt they've had nice from Gryffindors before. And Snape's not _that_ unfair -- he's right, you could've been really badly burned. You're missing about half your hair as it is."

"I noticed that." Ginny smiled faintly again. "I think it must have been the shock -- I nearly started giggling when he suggested a haircut. I don't think I want to know how _that_ would have gone over."

Tom snickered. "Probably not well." He blinked abruptly. "Ah... as a favor, when you tell your brothers, since I may be living with them for two months...."

"Don't worry. I'll make it perfectly clear that your part was purely extinguishing."

"Thank you. I wouldn't ask, only I've seen how protective they can be and there's an awful lot of them."

"And that's just the ones _here_." Ginny grinned. "I wouldn't have let them think you'd done it anyway, though."

"Well, I know, but they might run off to pound me before you got to that bit. And the twins are Beaters, so they're probably awfully good at pounding _off_ the pitch too."

"They're also devious," Ginny reminded him cheerfully. "I don't think any of them are expecting you to set me on fire, though."

"Well, I _hope_ not. In public, in class, when I'm working with you? That's much too direct. Beneath me." Tom grinned. "Also I try not to set my friends on fire in any case. Not exactly conducive to continued friendship."

Ginny winced slightly. "Although for some reason it doesn't seem to prevent you from starting one."

"Ah. Yeah. Can you believe, I'd practically forgotten? Besides, _that_ was an accident."

"Yes... though I'm slightly worried that I found it more memorable than you did...."

"If it's any consolation, I'm never going to forget getting allergies through two different noses."

Ginny blushed. "That was a very odd effect." She looked up, mouth quirking slightly in a suppressed smile, and offered, "At least it was _before_ the chameleon ate your handkerchief."

"Can't argue that one. Of course, since that was when you stopped spilling things altogether, it couldn't really have been after."

Snape paused during a circuit of the classroom to inform them sternly, "If a chameleon is relevant somehow to the task at hand, you have done something dramatically wrong."

"Sorry, Professor. Just making conversation while we wait for the mixture to heat properly."

"Try not to let it ruin your concentration." Snape moved to check the potion Colin was "supervising" and passing ingredients for. He looked faintly disappointed that it was well under way and showed no signs of imminent disaster.

"So much for being the hero," Tom muttered with a grin when Snape had progressed to the other side of the room. "Ah well, I'll take the fifty points; I believe they put us in the lead for the moment."

Ginny stuck out her tongue at him before grinning back. "I can't exactly complain under the circumstances, can I? We'll get them back though."

"I wouldn't count on it right away -- don't the twins have Potions this afternoon?"

"I didn't say we'd get it back in _here_. I'm confident, not insane."

"Ginny 'Acromantula-Tamer' Weasley might want to reconsider that last bit."

"That was a completely sensible decision given the circumstances."

"There is nothing sensible about climbing aboard a giant man-eating sentient spider with poisonous hair. But I'll grant you didn't have many other options."

"It was sensible by comparison to dying," Ginny suggested.

Tom couldn't help but agree. "Well, yeah. Pass the shredded flobberworm skin, please." 

Ginny handed it to him, keeping it well away from the remaining quicksilver, and thankfully, the rest of the class passed without incident.

*****


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. No undue claim nor material profit is intended._

**Unexpected Contact  
by Alan Sauer  
and Persephone  
Chapter 3/?**

*****

Two anxious days passed, each with its own flurry of owls, and a slow rain of feathers drifted onto the floor and tables on the morning when the school owl Ginny had sent to her family at last circled her head, hooting insistently. "Finally!" She reached up and retrieved the letter, then petted the owl and gave it the roll it was eyeing.

"I never saw an owl look that happy about bread before," Harry remarked. "It should talk to the boa. Is that from your parents?"

"Yes." She nearly cut herself in her hurry to see what they'd written. The letter, as it turned out, began with a note that her mother had relayed the explanation to her father, continued with strong opinions about Rita Skeeter, and then -- Ginny's shoulders slumped a bit, though she couldn't really be surprised -- pointed out rather sharply that it really would have been fairer to them _and_ to Tom if she had written promptly and said that they understood the circumstances, but didn't like to promise anything without having at least met him -- so they had also contacted Dumbledore and would be visiting the day after next. That would be a Friday, after all, so there should be time for this in addition to homework. 

"What'd they say?" Ron asked, whisking the letter out of Ginny's fingers and perusing it. "They're coming here? _Friday?_ And they expect us to do homework? Ginny, what are you trying to do to me? Mum's going to want to make sure my bed's made properly."

Ginny blinked at him a bit distractedly. "Isn't it?"

Ron gave Ginny the incredulous look this comment deserved. 

"Oh, fine, I'll talk about Potions and distract her. We found one to reduce oil in the hair. We're trying to find out if it has any odd drawbacks."

"Muggles have had that for a long time, Ginny," Hermione said kindly. "It's called shampoo."

Ginny stuck out her tongue at Hermione and took the letter back. "They're not sure whether to let Tom stay or not. But they didn't say _no_." She looked a bit sulky at Ron. "They let _you_ bring a guest home without arguing."

"Well, yeah, but I didn't try bringing home somebody who used to be You-Know-Who."

"Speaking of Tom," Harry put in with a sigh, "do you see him today? It might be a good idea to give him a little warning."

"You make it sound like Mum and Dad are alarming or something," Ginny said with amusement.

"Your mum and dad are alarming on first sight. Well, your dad. He's probably been storing up all sorts of questions about mid-20th-century Muggles."

"Oh." Ginny blinked. "You... have a point. I was going to tell him anyway, though."

"Make sure he combs his hair," Hermione added absently. Everybody stared. "What? He looks like an ambulatory squirrel's nest half the time, and we want him to make a good impression on Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, don't we?"

"I'll tell him you said so," Ginny said in a rather strangled voice, "but it's usually only a mess after Care of Magical Creatures."

"Well," Hermione said, rather abashed, "you don't have to include the part about the squirrel's nest."

Harry grinned. "Oh, I don't know, I think he might need that part to be convinced."

"You," Ginny said primly despite finding Harry's permanently tousled state rather charming, "are one to talk."

"Aunt Petunia tried getting my hair to behave. It never worked."

As Tom's hair did, on many occasions, show evidence of being domesticable, that argument wouldn't work on his account. Ginny laughed. "Well, I'll mention it. Although I suspect talking about hair in Snape's class might not be the best move."

*****

Ginny had duly relayed the appointment, though Tom was as yet unaware that he had been accused of being an ambulatory squirrel's nest. This was unfortunate; it might have relaxed him.

As it was, he was sitting in the Slytherin common room late that evening, staring without much attention at the book in his lap and turning over and over in his hands a scrap of parchment on which he had unnecessarily written down the fact that he was supposed to meet Ginny's parents on Friday afternoon. 

He tried reminding himself that there was no question of whether he could stay with Harry and Sirius -- he might even be able to rent a room of his own, though he had his doubts about who'd let a room he'd actually want to a thirteen-year-old -- and he didn't _think_ Ginny was likely to stop speaking to him if he failed to make a good impression -- but he couldn't seem to escape the feeling that he was going to have his fate pronounced. 

"Mr. Riddle." The Head of Slytherin spoke with a precision suggesting that his words controlled the measurement of ingredients for some most delicate potion. 

Tom looked up and folded the bit of parchment swiftly and neatly between his fingers, with the writing inside, without apparent attention. "Professor?"

"Follow me."

"Er...." He hadn't done anything in class or out of it to be in trouble lately, even by Snape's standards, had he? Best keep it simple. "Yes, sir."

Snape strode without further comment to an empty space between a bookcase and a sculpted silver serpent that meandered subtly along a ridge in the stone wall -- and disappeared. Tom checked briefly mid-step, then stepped forward and discovered an opening in the wall, hidden by the bookcase's shadow. It curved sharply and then fetched up in a small study. 

Tom committed this new location to memory and carefully kept himself from smiling as the thought crossed his mind that perhaps Salazar Slytherin had had something in common in the way of tastes in architecture with Conrad Seale. 

"Sit down, Riddle."

Tom sat, and wondered if the chair was purposely uncomfortable. "What's this about, Professor?"

"I'm told that you are to have visitors this Friday."

Well, that was one way of putting it.

"Ginny asked me if I wanted to stay at the Burrow over the summer holiday, but she didn't get around to asking her parents about it until after the article came out, and they want to meet me." And Snape didn't need to know how much the prospect reminded him of days at the orphanage when people would come to pick and choose.

He'd never been chosen, not until Hogwarts, and even that hadn't been _parents._

"Ah," Snape said drily. "Gryffindor planning."

"Things got very busy right after."

"I take it you intend to accept the invitation."

"Well... if Mr. and Mrs. Weasley let me, yes. Otherwise I have a standing invitation from Harry."

Snape's eyebrows drew together, and his mouth took on a certain pinchedness. "Potter. Who will now be living with Sirius Black."

"Er... yes, sir. They gave me a key. At Christmas. And said they'd keep a room for if I needed one." He bit off any further explanation; somehow he didn't feel like telling Snape what that gift had meant to him.

"So your planned alternatives for the summer months are the Weasley household... or Black and Potter." Snape regarded him for a moment. "I wonder how many pieces of you I should expect to be arriving next term."

"One, sir. Ginny and Harry are my friends." That, at least, he was sure of, even if it had taken him most of the year to _be_ sure. "And I don't know Sirius very well but he was...." 'Overwhelmingly exuberant' probably wasn't the wisest choice of words. "He was friendly, at Christmas."

"I was at school with Black. Appearances can be deceiving."

"He wouldn't do anything to upset Harry." _That_ had been crystal clear, and Tom suppressed a sudden spike of envy at the memory. He fished about for something to deflect the conversation. "Why are _you_ worried about _me,_ sir?"

Snape's expression, never open to begin with, shut with a snap. "You are a student of Hogwarts and more particularly of Slytherin House. I am charged with your well-being."

"The only other offer I had was from Lucius Malfoy," Tom said drily. "I'd rather be thrown to the lions."

That, rather to Tom's surprise, got a tiny hint of relaxation about his professor's mouth that might have been a smile on someone else, though it flickered and was gone after less than a second. "I would not advise you to say that in any Malfoy's hearing, and I trust that you would not repeat there either that under most circumstances I think I would find little to choose from between them."

Tom snorted. "The Weasleys aren't Dark wizards. Neither is Sirius, as far as I know. And the worst thing Draco can do to me is run to Daddy."

"Indeed it is." Snape's tone suggested that this last should not be dismissed as a danger too easily. "On the other hand, Sirius Black's innocence of the crimes for which he was sent to Azkaban should not be assumed to extend too far."

"He's been nothing but kind to me, sir," Tom said carefully. He had, in fact, been much easier to get along with than Snape.

"I suppose... that is as well." Snape might have _tried_ not to sound as if he'd had to drag the words out along with one of his teeth, but if so it hadn't worked. "For your sake, at any rate; it's hardly as if Potter needed someone else catering to him."

Tom shrugged. "He had ten years of thinking nobody wanted him around. Up until now, he had to go back to that every summer. I don't see anything wrong with people trying to make up for that."

Snape looked faintly and curiously nonplussed at this, then not quite so faintly angry. "I advise you not to take the examples of Black and Potter too much to heart -- nor certain of the Weasleys, for that matter. I also suggest that you explain that statement."

"Harry grew up in a cupboard, sir, working like a house-elf for an aunt and uncle who hate him," Tom said evenly. "Speaking as an unadoptable, abandoned child, I may be oversympathizing, but the only criticism I can make of the people who _do_ care for him is that it's a pity they didn't show up sooner."

The black eyes blinked, once and again. "Potter's attitude is remarkably like his father's," Snape replied slowly, "for there to have been _that_ much difference. Nonetheless, Black was... a few months ago I would have said willing to try murder at sixteen; now I will say too careless to recognize it, but I will add that he doesn't appear to be any less _impulsive_ than he was at that time. At least, when not restrained by a twenty-foot serpent. I suspect that you will see a good deal of him wherever you stay this summer; have a care."

"I didn't know Harry's father, but unless you're accusing Harry of lying about his childhood, maybe you're misreading his attitude." Tom paused. The Gryffindors were rubbing off, he noted absently. "But thank you for the warning."

Snape sighed and leaned back in his own seat, appearing less uncomfortable in it -- at least physically -- than Tom was in his own. "Beware the pride of lions," he said ironically, "but I suppose either set _is_ a better alternative than Malfoy Manor at this time. I assume Black isn't using his ancestral home at the moment?"

"No. I didn't know he had one."

"Well, at least he has some sense. Unless it's merely spite. Go on then." A brief pause. "I hardly believe I'm saying this, Riddle, but good luck with the Weasleys."

Tom firmly squelched his first response, which was 'I hardly believe you're saying that either, sir,' and contented himself with "Thank you."

"Go." 

Tom almost thought the serpent on the wall outside greeted him in passing.

*****

_To all our reviewers: Thank you very much! To M. P. in particular: We're very glad you're enjoying the series, and there's really no need to be shy if you want to comment -- we're always delighted to hear from people. We do currently have Author Alert turned on, but if you don't have an ff.net account I'm afraid I currently have no way to contact you other than, well, this note. :) And yes, as it happens we have all three speculated on how the two AUs might interact, though the overlap we were playing with actually occurred during Harry's time at Hogwarts for both sets and thus had the Stepbrothers characters as adults.... Your "ramblings" were read with great enjoyment rather than boredom, and we're working on some more._


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction based on the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. No material profit is expected or intended._

****

Unexpected Contact  
by Alan Sauer and Persephone  
Chapter 4/?  
Time's Riddle series

"We might have a Ravenclaw now, too," Ginny explained brightly as the study group, now swollen to six members with the addition of Hermione, Colin, and a rather nervous first-year Slytherin boy named Arcturus who seemed to be sticking very close to Peony for protection, trooped up a switchback staircase toward an unused classroom where Madam Pince would presumably not object to their conversations. "At least, when I talked to her in Herbology the other day she told me this was a good place and she's usually there."

Tom perked up. "How'd you manage that? And who?"

"Loony -- Luna Lovegood." Ginny grinned and bounced once as she walked. "She might just not have been listening when you asked; she's in her own world a lot of the time. I'm not sure she's in any of the regular Ravenclaw study groups you mentioned...."

Colin snorted. "'Off in her own world' is putting it mildly. I'm not sure she knows the rest of us _have_ a world."

"Oh, she's all right as long as you don't expect her to _disbelieve_ anything."

"Well, you're the expert on odd non-Gryffindor friends, I guess." Colin grinned. "On the other hand, if we have her I dunno if we'll get any _other_ Ravenclaws."

Ginny lifted her chin a little. "Well, that's _their_ problem then."

Tom, watching this byplay with a raised eyebrow, looked amused. "Now I'm all curious. And by now I'd consider inviting Malfoy if he'd been Sorted into Ravenclaw, and she can't be that bad."

Ginny burst out laughing. "Nothing like. Loony's fun. Just odd." 

"She keeps asking me if I've taken any pictures of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," Colin muttered. "I asked Hagrid, and even _he_ doesn't think they exist."

"Oh, Colin. Now he'll probably try to make one."

"Well, good. I'll take its picture, and maybe Looney'll leave me alone about them."

"She _is_ nice. Just don't take her too seriously if she sounds disappointed you haven't yet. Shh, we're almost here."

Ginny pushed open the door to the classroom; Tom did recognize Luna, though he couldn't recall ever talking to her. She was well immersed in what looked like the latest Transfiguration essay, which she was composing in glowing pink ink.

She did not, in fact, appear to notice them at all until after they had rearranged the desks and settled into a rough circle incorporating her, at which point Ginny carefully jogged the arm not occupied in stirring the luminescent inkwell and made introductions all around. As well as she could, at any rate, since Hermione had evidently mentioned something fascinating enough about runes to overcome Peony's shyness somewhere around the top of the staircase, and neither one appeared to be much use for anything but obscure puns in other alphabets at the moment.

Tom nodded at the essay. "Does Professor McGonagall mind you handing them in like that?"

Luna blinked and looked rather mystified. "Should she?"

"I don't think anyone else uses glowing ink. I suppose if it's legible enough."

"It's very legible. You could even read it in the dark."

Tom grinned. "Excellent point. Do you make it yourself?"

"I probably could if I tried." Luna regarded her inkwell with interest. "This was a present from my father."

"Well, we could look into it. I want to get into some independent work as well as helping each other with homework--did Ginny explain about the group?"

"Oh, yes. It sounds like an excellent idea." She dipped her quill again and began scribbling away.

Tom raised his eyebrows expressively at Ginny and turned to begin setting up their potions equipment. "Odd, like you said," he murmured, "but she doesn't seem at all apprehensive or curious about me, and I like that in a classmate."

"I'm sure she's read about you." Ginny frowned at a marine sponge as she laid it carefully next to a pickled toad on the desk. "I don't know what might have been said about you in the _Quibbler_. Something very unexpected, most likely."

"What's the _Quibbler_?"

"Oh! It's a magazine of... well, just about anything, really. Stories the _Daily Prophet_ won't print. Her father's the editor."

"No Rita Skeeter? I might get a subscription."

Ginny chuckled. "Well, at least you'd be entertained."

"Nothing wrong with that. I could always use some entertainment." Tom flicked a glance around the room; Hermione and Peony were hip-deep in something extremely technical -- he suppressed a sudden impulse to join them -- Colin was coaxing a very nervous-looking Arcturus into demonstrating some Charms homework, and Luna was now humming tunelessly as she continued writing her essay. "Look--you're really sure it's going to be all right, on Friday? I mean, even if your parents don't believe that article, other people will."

"It's... probably not the article that'd worry them the most. And either way, meeting you's the best way to clear things up."

"One way or the other, eh?"

Ginny put her eyebrows up at him. "The _right_ way."

"Look, it doesn't matter if they don't let me stay, all right? It's not going to change anything, you'll just have to come visit me at Harry's, if they'll let you."

"It matters to me."

"I just don't want you to get your hopes up too high. I don't exactly have the world's best track record impressing parents."

"You'll be fine!" Ginny pinched off a bit of sponge and threw it at him; Tom's startled duck only succeeded in letting it catch in the neck of his robes. "Honestly. They should like you." 

"Yeah, well, the last time I saw somebody's parents at Hogwarts, it was Lucius Malfoy, and the time before that the parent was a professor anyway."

"_Lucius Malfoy_," Ginny hissed, "is NOT a 'track record' that applies to my parents!" She looked briefly around in alarm after this vehemence, but no one else was paying attention. Hermione and Peony were even on the way out the door making a list of book titles to look for in the library.

"I didn't mean it that way. Really. Sorry." Tom looked over at her worriedly. "I just... all I meant to say was, parents don't come visit the school very often. And the track record thing was about the orphanage, I probably should've actually said that right out. I _know_ your parents are different from Malfoy's. I told _Snape_ that."

Her shoulders dropped a bit and she took a long breath. "I didn't think of that. ...And I shouldn't have snapped. But look... it will be all right. I mean it. I'm... on edge too, but there isn't any reason for them _not_ to like you. That article doesn't count, especially with Harry telling them different. You're nice, you're polite -- when you want to be anyway, the twins like you for the Laughing Potion, Percy probably approves of your not having done anything _else_ -- that he knows about anyway. And you aren't like... the diary." She bit her lip. "Well. I can see... turns of speech and things like that, and so on... but not the important things."

"I don't like having even _that_ much in common with it," he muttered. "But that is a reason for them not to like me, no matter how small of one you think it is."

"Well, it isn't a _good_ reason, not if it doesn't bother me. You listen, and so did he, but you don't hint I shouldn't talk to other people or... anything like that. It's not the same." She carefully set down the knife she had been using on a shrivelfig and reached over to squeeze his wrist, a little too hard. "Believe me, it isn't."

Tom summoned up the ghost of a smile. "And no giant homicidal snakes. Unless you're a roll." He sighed. "Look, I'll try to relax. It's just--well, I have these reflexes about parents. They come and they look at you and maybe if you're lucky they want to talk to you, but they always pick somebody else."

"They already want to talk to you, and you're the only one I invited."

"I know. It's just reflexes, like I said."

"It'll be all right." She let go of him and went back to the shrivelfig, then looked up thoughtfully. "Of course, if you're still nervous, they'll probably try to make you feel better and then we'll have them agreeing in no time."

Tom snickered before he could stop himself. "Now, come on, I'm the Slytherin."

Ginny smiled serenely down at her shrivelfig. "But not a Malfoy-type. So I'm sure we can get past that too."

"That's right. _I'm_ the Slytherin, _you're_ the optimist."

"Do I have to throw another sponge at you?"

"You might."

"Well, if you insist...."

"Leave enough for the potion."

"I'll measure that part out first."

"If you two are going to fight with the sponge instead of brewing anything," Colin interjected, "could we have some help peeling loose the feather Arcturus levitated _into_ the ceiling?"

"As long as you don't send me the same way -- you need my notes for that History of Magic essay." Tom grinned at Arcturus. "Be thankful you've got Flitwick -- _my_ first-year Charms professor would've given me a foot on levitational theory if I'd done that in class."

"I _like_ theory," Arcturus muttered. "At least if I'm holding the quill it behaves itself."

"Practical can be a lot more fun. Anyway, he graded essays really strictly." Tom eyed the feather in the ceiling thoughtfully, then produced another one from a robe pocket. "Try it again, would you?"

Arcturus frowned at it, then set the new feather on a desk and stepped back. He sighted along his wand at it for some reason, took a deep breath, and swish-and-flicked. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

Tom's eyes flicked up as the feather embedded itself next to its predecessor. "Right. Your pronunciation is good, and obviously you've got the concentration down, but you're flicking too hard -- and do you mind if I ask why you're being so careful about your aim? Probably isn't affecting your performance, but I'm curious."

Arcturus, rather red in the face, scowled at the ceiling. "Aiming carelessly's a bad habit. Worse the more dangerous the spell is, but...."

"Yes, but you won't always have time to aim like that." Tom frowned thoughtfully. "All you need to do to get levitation under control is ease up on the wandwork a bit--think of it like you've got an invisible string on your wand-tip attached to the feather, and all you need to do is pick it up. The aiming thing, though . . . can you do 'Lumos' so it's a beam instead of just your wand-tip lighting up?"

"Yes. Never thought the other was that much use, really."

"Well, sometimes you just want ambient light. That's good, though." Tom looked around the room. "I wonder if there's somewhere to meet where Filch won't mind us marking up the walls... well, anyway." He went over to the blackboard and drew a Galleon-sized circle on it. "See if you can light that up from across the room without looking down your wand first, all right? It'll be good practice if you want to join Dueling Club later."

"Do you think we'll _have_ dueling club again?" Colin wondered as Arcturus shot Tom a rather dubious look and extracted himself from the rearranged desks to head for the wall at the back of the room.

Speculation on this was interrupted, however, when Arcturus's first try at "_Lumos!_" produced a narrow, blinding-white beam that unfortunately ended up a lot closer to Tom's eyes than to the circle. 

Tom blinked away the dazzle and grinned at Arcturus. "Don't worry about it, I wasn't much better when I started out. It just takes practice, that's all." He turned back to Colin. "Again? What -- oh, that's right, it's the time difference. I wonder when they stopped having it?"

"We had one meeting last year. Before that, I don't know how long it had been." 

Arcturus gave Tom a pained glance; he looked even more flushed by this point, but his next several attempts brought him successively closer to the spot on the blackboard, at which point he held the steadily brightening beam in place and turned to gesture toward it. 

Ginny squinted at the circle in mild alarm. "Is the blackboard *smoking*?"

Tom blinked at the circle, waved frantically at Arcturus to cut it out, and muttered a quick Cooling Charm at the blackboard. "That's it, we definitely need somewhere to practice where messing up won't get us in trouble."

"Sorry...." Arcturus moved back through the desks to peer at the spot. "Too intense."

"Just a little." Ginny shook her head. "You could probably get really _creative_ at dueling club. I'm afraid to ask what you do for," she glanced at Tom, "ambient light."

"_Lumorbis._" This produced an apple-sized sphere of light -- thankfully not nearly as searingly brilliant -- that promptly floated upward on a diagonal and half-embedded itself in the ceiling with the two feathers inside it. Arcturus stared at it. "This is _not_ my day."

"Could be worse," Tom told him. "You're not ankle-deep in the tile in the girls' toilet."

"...I don't want to know."

"I got lost. It wasn't a big deal, the floor spat me back out after a few minutes."

"I wonder if that's what's really 'out of order' about Myrtle's. The floor doesn't work." Ginny shook her head. "Well, let's see about getting the feathers out of the ceiling so we can finish our potion."

"_Accio,_" Luna remarked conversationally. The globe of light zoomed toward her, landed on her essay, and winked out; after a brief pause the feathers yanked themselves free and followed it, looking somewhat the worse for wear. Luna cramped her name into the tiny remaining space at the bottom of her parchment as if signing a letter, then rolled it up and buried herself serenely in a book.

Tom turned back to their cauldron and carefully diced the sea sponge. "All weirdness aside," he muttered to Ginny, "we don't officially learn summoning spells until fourth year. Know any more like her?"

Ginny chuckled and shook her head. "I'm afraid nobody's quite like Luna."

"Pity."

*****


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. No undue claim nor material profit is expected or intended._

**Unexpected Contact  
Chapter 5/5  
Time's Riddle AU series  
by Alan Sauer and Persephone**

*****

As of dinner that Friday, Ginny was not quite as relaxed about her parents' visit as she had perhaps seemed when she was trying to reassure Tom. The more she thought about it -- and the more she heard from Ron -- the less confident she felt.

She was sure -- pretty sure -- that they would like him once they gave him a chance. Once she'd got over being afraid of him, this one hadn't had nearly the same effect on her as (she shivered a little despite eating a very hot potato) last year. He was nice. Despite the tendency to go off on tangents, studying with him was probably improving her grades. He certainly wasn't encouraging her to be shy. The only friendships he'd really caused any trouble with involved her roommates' objections to his being a Slytherin, and she rather thought they might waver if they knew what he was going to look like at sixteen. Still... she had the feeling this was going to start out very uncomfortably.

Tom agreed heartily about the uncomfortable start, but wasn't feeling very optimistic about the prospects for improvement. He spent most of dinner nibbling on bread, shredding small helpings of anything more substantial and feeling guilty for the waste, and doing his best to look as if he were behaving normally. 

Apparently he managed to look forbidding instead. Peony asked him to pass the butter, and that was about the extent of any attempts to engage him in conversation. 

He wished he had managed to get a slightly more exact idea of the evening plans. There were no more Weasleys in evidence than there normally were, and as students began wandering away from dinner, he finally scribbled a quick question to Ginny on a napkin via the distance-writing charm.

She scribbled back.

Oh. Well, of _course_ they were supposed to meet in the Gryffindor common room. She didn't know exactly where they'd go to talk properly, most likely Dumbledore's office; someone would come and get him, so he'd better wait someplace they could get to. 

Tom imagined it was highly unlikely they'd forget to come fetch him, but he wished he hadn't thought of it.

***** 

Dumbledore must have given the Weasleys the password, or else the Fat Lady just liked them, because they arrived in the common room suddenly enough that Mr. Weasley's greeting came as something of a shock. He seemed to be in very high spirits, even before he was swarmed by his children. 

As the hellos died down, Mrs. Weasley quickly and quietly suggested, "Perhaps we'd all better go on to Professor Dumbledore's office. We can talk there."

"Is this family-only," Harry asked, "or... well, I feel a little responsible for Tom, you see."

Mrs. Weasley paused and gave him an appraising look. "You _are_ family, dear, even if you will be staying with Sirius. Of course you may come." 

Harry's mouth dropped open for a second before he grinned, feeling warm straight down to his toes. 

"Though of course we'll be glad to have you both visit," Arthur Weasley added as he held the portrait open for his wife. "Shall we go, then?"

Harry gave him a strange look as they set off down the corridor. Mr. Weasley... seemed to be... _humming_.

"You're awfully cheery, Dad," Fred said. "Did you get a new gadget for the car?"

Mr. Weasley chuckled. "Not quite, not quite --"

Harry looked around as they started to pass the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. "Do you want me to go get Tom now, or will I miss the story?"

Mr. Weasley smiled broadly and waved a hand. "It'll keep for a few minutes if you like." 

Mrs. Weasley sighed. 

Harry hesitated, then darted off with protests from the twins receding behind him. 

*****

Tom was sitting in the library, staring at a book without reading it. Hermione was being much more productive a few tables over, and further down Peony was stealing the kind of occasional look at her that Tom sometimes caught Colin giving Harry. 

And as if the thought had summoned him, Harry popped up out of nowhere next to Tom's chair.  
"Psst. Tom. They're here," he whispered.

Tom managed not to drop his book, although it was a close call. "Oh. Um. Already?"

"Yes. Mr. Weasley is in a very good mood, too. He promised to wait to explain why until I got back."

Good moods could mean all sorts of things, Tom thought irritably. "Well, um, that's good, I guess. I'll just follow you, then?"

Harry nodded and glanced at the glowering librarian. They hurried out. "See, that article can't have been taken too seriously -- it certainly doesn't look like it soured his day at work or anything."

"Maybe he's just looking forward to what they're going to do to me," Tom said glumly.

"They're _nice_, Tom," Harry said with a trace of exasperation. "I suppose they're a little suspicious -- last year was _very_ weird -- but they're not sadistic or something."

"Sorry, force of habit. I've had this same conversation with Ginny about five times this week."

"And she hasn't thrown anything at you yet?"

"Actually she has. Marine sponge in study group when you weren't looking."

"At least it was soft." Harry led the way rapidly through twisting corridors along what Tom recognized, with a flip of the stomach, as the way to the headmaster's office. They stopped at the gargoyle, where Harry mentioned some sweet that Tom almost instantly forgot when they moved on; the moving spiral staircase that had fascinated him when he first encountered it did absolutely nothing for either his nerves or the overwhelming feeling that things were completely beyond his control. 

The office door swung open abruptly as they approached it; the twins practically snatched them inside as Dumbledore, with a pleasant nod and a cheerful smile, moved past them and vacated his own office "to let them speak privately."

Fred and George took one new arrival each and propelled them into two of the squashy chairs that crowded the circular room in a most unlikely way for normal use; Tom wondered how Dumbledore had managed to get to the door. "Come _on_! He hasn't told us anything yet!"

He tried to remain unobtrusive next to Harry, but had to admit to a bit of curiosity himself -- the twins were being even more enthusiastic than usual, if that was possible.

"Ah, yes. Well. I'm certain you all recall that article by Rita Skeeter," Mr. Weasley began.

"That horrible woman," Ginny said, wrinkling her nose. "I wish I knew how she found out about it; there wasn't anybody else around."

Mr. Weasley looked gleeful. "However it may have been -- today Lucius Malfoy -- of all people, can you believe it, what nerve -- brought forward an accusation that I was a Death-Eater." 

He paused dramatically while everyone blinked at him.

"That's insane," Fred said. 

George added, "Unless you want to show us your black cloak and hood, Dad."

"That," Mr. Weasley said with great satisfaction, "was the general opinion of the Ministry." He slapped his knee in delight. "Malfoy was practically laughed out of the room! I've never seen him look so appalled."

_Well,_ Tom thought, _that explains why Draco was so quiet at dinner. I'll have to remember to tell Peony it's open season._

Ginny chose this point to move to his chair, lean over him, and whisper solemnly, "Yes. Fred and George really are _always_ like that."

Tom stifled a snicker. "I don't know how you manage to live with them."

"I'm that good. Think you can manage it for a few months?" she asked mischievously.

"Only if I can blame you for inviting me. Assuming your parents don't Apparate me to Siberia."

"Stop that. I don't have another sponge with me." 

"Why do you think I said it now?"

"What's that about a sponge, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked in bewilderment, having caught only the last and admittedly strange portion of the conversation. 

"I threw a sponge at him for being pessimistic," Ginny explained, as if this were a standard remedy.

"Dried," Tom added before realizing who he was speaking to. "I've still got crumbs in my collar, I think."

"Why'd you throw a _sponge,_ Ginny?" Fred asked severely. "You should have picked something squelchy."

"I make sure the slug-slime's well out of her reach in Potions, thank you. I do learn occasionally."

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and spoke somewhat more seriously. "I suppose we should get down to business."

Tom closed his mouth with a snap and watched Mr. Weasley nervously.

"He's not the same one, Mr. Weasley," Harry said almost at once. "He decided _not_ to be Voldemort, that's why he's here. Alive, I mean. And himself." 

Tom shuffled his feet. The memories of those first few chaotic moments had largely faded -- the first clear memory he had was of Dumbledore wondering what to do with him -- but yes, "Not Voldemort" did seem to be the main thing to get across. He did his best to look non-Voldemorty.

Mr. Weasley opened his mouth, hesitated, then sighed and responded, "Yes, we understand that, Harry... but I'm sure you can understand why we'd be concerned, as well. It's a bit worrisome that Ginny's attached herself to someone _similar_ to her... false friend from last year, even if there are important distinctions." He tried a wry smile and added, "Such as a fairly clear location for his brain." 

"He's not really the same at all, Dad," Ginny pointed out. "The... other one...." She swallowed. "He always said things that _sounded_ nice but made me feel useless, or not want to talk to anybody else. Tom doesn't. And the diary one... was very -- I don't know, _formidable._ Wasn't ever afraid, never gave the impression that he needed help. And Tom is," she shot an apologetic smile his way, "well, for one thing, he's petrified of you two."

Tom sat and tried not to look mortified. He suspected that he wasn't succeeding very well, and hoped that he was having better luck at not looking too much as if he might be plotting what to do to Ginny for that comment. After all, if it _helped,_ he couldn't complain. Much. 

"Gracious," Mrs. Weasley said, peering at Tom in some surprise. "We're _wary,_ dear, not plotting to torture you." 

"Well, not unless you actually turned out to be evil," George said brightly. 

His mother shot him a reproving look, but Tom noticed that she didn't exactly contradict the statement.

"Um. Ginny's been telling me the same thing all week, ma'am," Tom said softly. "I'm afraid I'm not really... used to this sort of thing, and I suppose imagining other things is one way to get used to the idea of you saying no."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a glance. "Well," Mrs. Weasley began, "I'm not certain quite how much you know about last year." That was promising. Sort of. At least they didn't assume he knew ALL about it firsthand. "We probably should have realized -- Ginny _has_ been much more her usual self this year, although the first several weeks were rather worrying."

Ginny shook her head. "Honestly, Mum, I explained about all that when I wrote home. Snape kept putting us together for Potions and it bothered me a bit before we started actually talking. It's not the same at all."

"It seemed to be significantly more than a bit, dear."

"Well... maybe it was. But I'm fine now, and it wasn't Tom's fault to begin with."

"Not this Tom," Harry clarified. "I've been paying attention, Mrs. Weasley. Tom's no more a Dark Wizard than _I_ am. And he did more to get rid of Voldemort for good."

Tom made a faint and incoherent noise. 

"Harry, that seems a little..." Mr. Weasley began

"True. I mostly talked him into it."

Mr. Weasley raised an eyebrow at Tom as if waiting for his reaction.

Tom shuffled his feet. "I don't really... remember much of that part of it. Only that I had a choice between being... him... and being me, and I didn't want to be him." He shuddered. "And I _don't_."

"This one's not too bad, really," Fred remarked.

"He doused Snape in Laughter Potion," George added.

"George!" Ginny said, too late. Tom somehow didn't think this had been something she'd been planning to bring up in his defense.

Mrs. Weasley's eyebrows shot up. "That seems rather odd treatment for your own head of house."

"Well, I'd spilled enough on Tom, and Snape could've given us different partners, so he had it coming," Ginny said stoutly. "He's been abominable almost all year. Snape, I mean. I'm sure he thought it was _funny_ when I'd get nervous and mess up."

"You must respect your professors, Ginny. _What,_ exactly, did you spill on Tom?" Mrs. Weasley inquired cautiously. 

"Um... mostly half-made potions."

"I had a second nose for three hours once," Tom chimed in helpfully. Ginny glared at him.

"Yes, we really need to get the formula for that one," Fred put in. "Did you write it down?"

Ginny transferred her glare to Fred. "No. I had other things on my mind."

The adult Weasleys exchanged another look. "I have to admit," Mrs. Weasley said seriously, "of all the possibilities I envisioned, their behaving like the twins was not on the list."

"Oh, they're nothing like us," George said, grinning. "We plan better, for one thing."

Tom's chin jerked up, and he had to bite down hard on responding to that as a challenge. Being underestimated could be good . . . .

"He was really very nice about Potions," Ginny persisted bravely. "Most people would have lost their temper by the third time or sooner."

"I was afraid you'd keel over on the spot if I did," Tom said. "Besides, it wasn't anything Madame Pomfrey couldn't fix."

Ginny looked at him, then rather beseechingly at her parents. "You see what I mean?"

"Well . . . yes," Mr. Weasley admitted. 

"We understand you'd be staying with Harry and Sirius otherwise?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly. Tom was startled to realize that it didn't sound like an insult; he'd heard too much of Professor Snape's opinion of Sirius Black and Draco's supposedly veiled attitude toward his own situation, probably. 

"Yes, ma'am. Harry gave me a key over Christmas." Tom glanced over at him with an uneasy smile. "Ginny had offered earlier, though, and I don't want to be any trouble but I'd like --" He stopped and shrugged; he'd like what? For them to treat him as Ginny's friend instead of Voldemort's younger image, really; he might have somewhere to stay anyway and surely wasn't in any danger of failing to appreciate that, but he couldn't help the slightly panicked feeling that if they didn't want to have him for the summer, they'd probably forbid Ginny to talk to him or something too. Which would be very awkward. He couldn't say _that_, though, so he scrambled for an alternative. "Of course I suppose if neither had worked out I'd have had to ask Professor Dumbledore how to find somewhere."

Mrs. Weasley blinked. "I thought --" 

"That," Ginny said in a tone carrying a certain amount of triumph, "was the other one."

Tom looked perplexed. "I think I'm missing something...."

"I always used to talk to Mum a lot," Ginny explained. "It's one of the things I missed . . . well, I should have written more to her. Ah . . . anyway, I got back to it more last summer, and some of it was about . . . the diary, and I remember mentioning that the other Tom really did not seem to like Dumbledore." She paused. "I think that's what she meant." 

Tom snorted. "Well, he'd already gotten into the Dark Arts, of course he didn't like Dumbledore. I remember when he took his leave of absence to hunt down Grindelwald. I remember him coming _back_ in time for exams. I'm surprised _anybody_ in Hogwarts went dark that quickly afterward, especially . . . the other me."

"_You_ admired him then?" Ron sounded slightly strangled. He'd been curiously quiet through the whole conversation. Ginny had been wondering if he'd already put in all his arguments somehow.... 

Tom blinked at Ron. "Of course. You don't know . . . I mean, it was just my first year, but everybody'd been through the war. I thought, when I went to Hogwarts, that everything was going to be okay because magic could solve anything. But the wizards were even more frightened than the Muggles, and all because of Grindelwald. And then Dumbledore just . . . went and hunted him down. You have no idea."

Tom looked around the room and made the rather startling discovery that all the Weasley boys (with the obvious exception of Bill and Charlie, who weren't present) were staring at him.

"What? And he was a good teacher, too, not that I actually had much class-time with him."

Ron shook his head slowly. "You know, you're going to have to tell stories . . . ."

Tom grinned a little uncertainly. "Well . . . remember I only had my first year, and he was gone for most of it."

Mr. Weasley folded his arms and looked reprovingly at his youngest son. "Don't I recall you making a comment about people who issue invitations without consulting the rest of the family?"

Ron looked somewhat abashed. "Well . . . the school year isn't over yet . . . ." 

Mr. Weasley chuckled. "Don't worry." He exchanged a thoughtful look with his wife, then nodded slowly and turned to Tom. "I think we should be able to manage . . . if you don't mind a bit of crowding." 

"And general chaos," Percy added.

"Unlike, for example, Hogwarts," Tom said wryly. Then his brain ran through the last bit of the conversation again, highlighting certain phrases. "Oh . . . that's, that's very kind of you, sir, thank you."

"Thank them after you make it through the summer, if you're still inclined to," Fred suggested cheerfully. 

Ginny leaned over and poked Tom in the ribs. "See, I told you so." Tom managed to return a somewhat dazed smile.

"I do hope you understand," Mrs. Weasley was saying, "we _did_ have to check, even with Professor Dumbledore's assurances."

Tom blinked. "I assumed you would -- Professor Dumbledore's assurances? He spoke for me?"

"He said that you appeared to be doing your best to avoid the kind of mistakes that led . . . er . . . You-Know-Who wrong," she explained a bit uncomfortably. "And he's almost never known to overlook something he's watching for."

"It seemed rather unlikely, all things considered, that you were an intentional danger," Mr. Weasley added. "We were still a little uncertain about the amount of time Ginny seemed to have been spending with you, after last year." 

"Well, from what I've heard, I don't blame you. You've been a lot nicer than I thought you would be about it."

"And you're either exceptionally polite," Mr. Weasley said solemnly, "or up to something." 

Tom's face froze for a moment, but then he caught the look in Mr. Weasley's eye and relaxed a bit. "Polite, I hope. Kind of a . . . nervous habit."

"As nervous habits go, that's not a bad one. Certainly better for the digestion than chewing one's nails," Mr. Weasley said kindly. 

Ginny leaned over and remarked in a tone that would have been conspiratorial if it hadn't been audible to the entire room, "Most people don't realize the twins got their sense of humor from Dad."

"There're _three_ of them? I was only prepared for two. Can I reconsider?" Tom asked, deadpan.

Ginny grinned, leaning back a bit as Harry sent a stray decorative pillow flying at Tom. "He's calmed down a lot, so Mum says." 

"I'll rely on her good judgment, then."

"This," Harry observed, "is going to be an interesting summer." He paused, then looked at Mr. Weasley and asked cautiously, "Is Mr. Malfoy or anyone likely to try to cause more trouble?" 

Mr. Weasley laughed. "I'd like to see him try. I wish I had a picture of his face when that slander of his was laughed out of the Ministry. No, I don't expect any trouble from Lucius Malfoy for a while."

Harry grinned. "That must have been something. It's good to know nobody seems to take that article seriously, though."

"I wish I knew how that wretched Skeeter woman found out about it in the first place," Ginny muttered.

"Very strange," Tom agreed. "Peony's going to love Mr. Weasley's news, though."

Ginny giggled. "Try not to do anything permanent to Malfoy; you don't need to give him another reason to hold a grudge."

"Well, _I_ wasn't going to do it -- although I might consider helping." 

"Who," Mrs. Weasley asked, "is Peony?"

"Peony Parkinson," Ginny elaborated, "a Slytherin first-year friend of Tom's who studies with us sometimes. She's nice. Entirely unlike her sister."

"She's usually very quiet -- Peony, that is, not Pansy. A little shy. Generally regarded as cute in a kittenish sort of way and therefore vastly underestimated."

"What exactly does she have against Malfoy, anyway?" Ron inquired. "I thought most of the Slytherins liked him all right." 

Tom snorted. "And you spend enough time around us to tell, do you? Remember Peony's been going over to the Malfoys' probably since she was born, and her sister has a crush on him, _and_ she's not an idiot."

Ron considered this. "That would do it." 

"Anyway, a lot of us don't exactly like him, but there's not a lot most of us can do about it either."

"I know the feeling," Mr. Weasley admitted. 

"Well, maybe he'll do something as absurd as his father did," Harry suggested optimistically. 

"There's an idea," Tom mused.

"Three cheers for his humiliating himself," Ginny suggested, "although I'm not sure he'd notice."

"_I'd_ notice, and that's the important thing." Tom stifled a yawn -- Marcus Flint had been on a pre-dawn practice kick, possibly in case they had to play during an eclipse, and it was wreaking absolute havoc with his sleep patterns. "I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but I've had an awfully long day, and I've got an early morning tomorrow. Thanks again for letting me stay over this summer, but if you'll excuse me I really should get to bed."

"Yes, Slytherin's trying to learn to play Quidditch blind," Harry put in. 

"It wasn't _my_ idea," Tom grumped. "Marcus Flint has gone absolutely insane about having to leave."

"You should hear Oliver Wood. He's great, but he's strategy-mad and usually nobody's quite sure what he's trying to get us to do until he puts away the blackboard."

"We didn't mean to keep you too late," Mrs. Weasley told Tom. "Do sleep well." They stood up when he did; Mr. Weasley shook his hand, and Mrs. Weasley disconcerted him completely by going to hug him.

As Tom walked downstairs toward the Slytherin dorms, he shook his head ruefully and couldn't help agreeing with Harry. _This is definitely going to be an interesting summer._

*****


End file.
